


alone; but I carry you

by Lunarwolfik



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarwolfik/pseuds/Lunarwolfik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not all fun and games being part of Team Murder Club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alone; but I carry you

"I want to understand," she mutters against warm skin, one hand already caught in tangled hair.

"Do you want this?" She asks, with lips chapped and heart fluttering in her chest.

She lets out a chuckle, strangled by her too-sharp teeth. "I don't know but I don't want to be alone." Memories of previous lips, other hands and rough calluses dance beneath her eyelids but she ignores them. Now isn't the time for memories.

There could never be a time for memories. Not after-

_That night_.

She stills her hand and Laurel grabs her fingers in a swift sure motion. She's certain the double-time thud of her heart can be heard a block away.

She can still see blood under her fingernails.

Or is that nailpolish.

She's not sure anymore. Doesn't want to find out.

"Michaela, it's okay. Breathe."

She is breathing, that's the problem. She's breathing and moving and still _alive_ but she shouldn't be. She should be in jail or dead or something.

Anything.

The world was supposed to punish you when things went wrong right?

Hell even when things went _right_.

"I don't want to," she says, low and in a rush. The words hurt.

Laurel tucks her hair behind her ear, like a kiss and Michaela looks up into eyes that are too calm, too collected, the only eyes that make her feel like she's not breaking into ten-thousand pieces.

Michaela breathes once. It hurts too.

"There you go." Laurel's words are soft, too soft for someone who's a kill-

Michaela laughs, hard rumbling laughter that bubbles up from some place that she's pretty sure is just between _loosing it_ and _way fucking gone_.

They're all killers, no matter who actually did it.

They were all fucking killers.


End file.
